


Honeydew

by FadedSepia



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: After Carol's Presumed Death, F/F, Funeral, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mourning, Not Happy, Reflection of the 1990s, Whump, mild Self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 09:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20775968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedSepia/pseuds/FadedSepia
Summary: Set three days after Carol Danver's funeral.This is not a happy story.





	Honeydew

**☆•☆• • •☆•☆**

She isn’t going back to sleep, and Monica is still with her parents. Maria needs to get up. She swings her feet onto the rug and glares at the clock, wonders why it feels like getting out of bed before 10:00 is some big damn accomplishment. She sets her feet on the floor and doesn’t look back, doesn’t even glance at the empty other side of the bed.

Maria drifts down to the kitchen because that’s what you _do_ in the morning, even if it is _late_ morning. She opens the door to the refrigerator, but there isn’t all that much left. People came by, of course, _friends,_ family, and_ family_. Those that_ knew_ and those that didn’t. She knows she’s lucky –_ so lucky_ – because her momma brought chicken and rice, and her cousin Angel brought tomato pudding, and it’s more than she expected._ Not like after other funerals. _Not like if they had been- Like other couples._ Real _couples. Her brain screams because it_ was_ real,_ they were_ real, but even now she has to keep up that lie.

She looks, again, for something, doesn’t matter what. Doesn’t matter at all. There isn’t much, but there’s melon, half cut up in a tupperware. It’s _something_. Maria grabs it, picks a knife from the block, knows she shouldn’t be cutting it while she’s holding it in her hand like this – knows she’d lay into Monica so damn hard if she caught her at this; it’s _melon_ for God’s sake – but she doesn’t care. She carves off a wedge, slices away the rind, scrapes out the seeds on the back of the knife.

She isn’t hungry.

The melon looks perfect; it’s cool in her hand, soft green with the little bit of white, smelling like coming rain, and stolen kisses by the hangar and- She needs to eat. It’s the third morning without- The third morning since she said her last goodbyes. Maria can’t remember eating since her parents left. Her stomach gurgles, startling, reminding her that she’s still here, and she needs to stay here; to feed it. To take care of herself, to be a mom to her daughter. To remember-

She doesn’t _feel_ hungry – or anything, really – but she’ll eat it, anyway, just to get it out of her hand.

Maria takes a bite, and it’s perfect; sweet and wet on her tongue, with just the right amount of firmness sneaking up when she reaches the outside, so much like Carol, sweet and crisp, and she isn’t sliding onto the floor – _She can’t!_ – because there’s juice on her hands and she’ll get sticky like they did out by the lake and-!

Maria slams her fist into her hip, hard pressure a jolt. She does it, again. Again, until it hurts, _throbs,_ leaves a bruise she knows Monica won’t ever see, so it’s alright.

The bruises and the sweetness, they hurt, yes, but for a few minutes, Maria _feels_ something today. That’s better. It has to be. _Anything_ has to be better.

**☆•☆**

It’s quarter ‘til when she gets herself back off the floor. There’s a little buzzing in her ears. It takes her a good minute to realize it’s a fruit fly. Maria picks up the knife, cuts another piece, and eats.

**☆•☆• • •☆•☆**


End file.
